


The Lost Winchester

by alisslynn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Kind of AU?, Loneliness, Major Original Character(s), it would work in the series if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9781340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisslynn/pseuds/alisslynn
Summary: Nearly 400 years later, on February 15, 2017, Castiel gets a glimpse of a girl from the colonial times. He can’t explain it. When Elizabeth wakes up that same day, she gets a glimpse of blue eyes and a trench coat. Their memories are slowly coming back, but can they remember what they need too reach each other before it’s too late?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings- mentions of drinking, drugs, kidnapping, and amnesia

    It was February 15, 2017 when Castiel remembered.  
    He was sitting in the middle of the backseat, Dean driving and Sam listening to a podcast, when he gasped. The sharp intake of breath was so unlike the angel, that Dean swerved the impala in surprise and Sam jumped.  
    “What the hell, man?” Dean asked, maneuvering the car onto the side of the road. Sam looked back at him in confusion.  
    Castiel had his head in his hands, muttering something that sounded like Enochian.  
    “Cas?” Sam questioned, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.  
    Cas’ head snapped up and he looked at his friends with an intensity they had rarely seen.  
    “I remember her.”

    I woke up on February 15, not noticing anything was wrong at first. My long blonde hair was knotted and mangled from the night, and my throat felt dry. I had the strange feeling like I had had a nightmare, but couldn’t remember what it was about.  
    Shaking it off, I stumbled into the bathroom of my apartment, wincing at the light from the window. Had I drank last night? My headache made me think I did, but I couldn’t remember anything.  
    Looking at myself in the mirror, something felt even more off. I was wearing a white long nightgown, and I winced as my head pounded again. The nightgown was something that would have been seen in an old disney princess movie. Strangely enough, the dress was the only thing in the bathroom that made me feel calmer.  
    I quickly walked back into the bedroom. My head was still pounding, and the room swirled so much I closed my eyes. Did I take something maybe? I fumbled around the comforter to find my phone.  
     Obviously, the smart thing to do would be to check my messages, but I had none. No outgoing, or incoming. There were no threads. Okay, that’s odd.  
     I went into my photo gallery next, but it was empty. Was this even my phone?  
     Thinking I should just call my friend and ask what happened I opened my contacts. Nothing. I had no numbers saved, and my call log was empty too.  
     Actually, now that I thought about it, did I have friends? What was my friend’s name? My mom’s? My dad’s? The only names I could think of were… Gabriel and Cas? Was that right? If they were my friends, then why didn’t I have their numbers?  
     I sat back on the bed, hyperventilating. The logical explanation was that I had amnesia. What was someone supposed to even do when they had amnesia? Do I call someone? Who?  
    There were so many questions I had bouncing around my head, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. What if I was kidnapped?  
    “Okay, calm down.” I whispered to myself. “You can do this.”  
     Something was very wrong. I couldn’t remember anything, and the two names I had thought of were quickly slipping away. I could feel myself forgetting them… Was it Carl? Charlie? Castiel! That was it.  
     I rolled over and opened the nightstand drawer, thankfully finding a notebook and a pen. I opened it to the first page, writing ‘Names’ at the top. The only two I wrote down were Castiel and Gabriel. I tried hard to think about other ones, but my mind came up blank.  
     On the next page I wrote ‘Places,’ and the next ‘Misc.’  
     “Okay, think really hard.” I told myself. What else did I remember?  
     I winced as another wave of pain went through my head, and closed my eyes. Images flashed against my eyelids and I fought to hold on to them. One was a field of tobacco plants, another a fireplace burning. The last one stayed the longest, and I saw a pair of brilliantly blue eyes, right before everything went white.  
     Before I could forget anything, I quickly wrote all of it down in the notebook. Turning back to the Names page I wrote next to Castiel. “Blue eyes???”  
     My head hurt way too much for me to try to remember again, and I now believed that remembering only would make it worse. Someone or something didn’t want me to remember my past, or what had made me this way.  
     Logically, I felt this meant I was in danger. I had the sense that time was running out, and it was urgent that I find those two people. I read over the names one last time, just to steady myself.  
     I left the room cautiously, just in case someone else was here. Should I take a right or a left? Well, right is always right.  
     Walking down the hallway to my right, I found the walls empty. No photos or paintings. This apartment seemed completely bare.  
     I walked into what seemed to be the kitchen. The front door was in front of me, with the living room area to the left. The kitchen was spotless, no dishes in the sink, and when I checked the pantry there was no food inside.  
     This was not my house, I knew that for sure now. This house hadn’t seemed to be used in years, so I definitely couldn’t have been living there.  
     The only personal item I found were keys, hanging on a hook right next to the front door. I grabbed them to examine them, finding a car key, key FOB, and a house key. Simple and as unpersonalized as it gets. It felt like someone had placed me in this fake life, but obviously they didn’t do a very good job.  
     Looking in the living room, I found it as bare as the rest of the house had been. There was a TV, and a couch. A coffee table sat in the center, with a laptop upon it. I grabbed it and booted it up, hoping there was no password.  
     The opening screen showed the user name “Elizabeth Jacobsen.” That must have been my name. My head gave another twinge at Elizabeth, but I didn’t feel anything towards Jacobsen, telling me that that wasn’t my real last name.  
     There was no password required, and it didn’t take long for the desktop to pop up, a web browser instantly opening. My fingers tapped impatiently on the keyboard, thinking of what to search.  
     “Alright, let’s start with square one.” I whispered, typing in ‘Elizabeth Jacobsen.’  
     Results started to pour in, but nothing seemed right. There was an Elizabeth in Denver, another in Canada. Denver Elizabeth was celebrating her 90 birthday this week, and an article told me Canada Elizabeth was a newscaster who used to be Eddie Jacobsen. I shook my head, chuckling. At least I knew that I definitely had lady parts.  
    So, onto square two. I opened up google maps, trying to pinpoint where I was. It told me I was in Massachusetts, which seemed familiar. I was from here, then. I scrolled through street view, seeing a coffee shop, a church, and a library. The library and church seemed right, and without sparing another thought I jumped up, heading to my bedroom.  
     After I was properly dressed in clothes found in the closet, I grabbed my notebook and keys and headed out of the apartment. I didn’t bother locking the door behind me. It wasn’t my home, and the thought only made me more determined to find out what was my home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter! I'm pretty busy in life right now, but I already have the first three chapters finished. No promises on posting, but it won't be longer than a couple days in between, and I'm not planning on giving up on this story.


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